Styled
by Myrddin Emrys
Summary: How is it Hermione's hair is miraculously fixed in every fic I read? My take on one of the only situations that she'd care about something so... unscholarly.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter related.

_**Styled**_

Life after Hogwarts was something people like Hermione Granger thought about all the time. That is why she _knew_, knew from her fifth year, that she would be an auror when she graduated. It would take a while before she allowed herself narrow her options, but finally it became clear to everyone at Hogwarts- and indeed in the wizarding world-that Death Eaters, Dark Wizards, and Voldemort beware, the world's brightest witch, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley were coming. The end of the Reign of Terror would be over soon.

That is why Hermione Granger was in this room which smelled of hairspray and burnt hair. That is why, on either side of her were her best friend, sitting in identical black chairs awaiting their doom.

Their first assignment was coming up. This was it, the time to prove themselves to the world and reflect well on their two years of intensive training. They had to be outfitted and 'styled' as the trainees called it. They had to have themselves displayed in a way that did not draw attention to them and did not get in the way of their fighting. Hair could not get in their eyes, and no clothing could be caught and torn.

This process frightened Hermione, but she did not reveal the fact to her friends. They probably knew anyway, though. During the last two years, she had her hair pinned up during all of the training in a tight bun, oddly reminiscent of McGonagall. In fact it was up now.

They all waited nervously for the stylist, but now Hermione studied herself in the huge mirror in front of her. With fingers that shook, she pulled her hair down, the frizzy bush coming down to frame her face in all of its glory. Her face was a little pale and she wore no makeup. She had no time for such frivolity.

This place reminded Hermione of a muggle beauty parlor. In fact, it seemed to _be_ one. There was a large window at their backs and one door. The counters were littlerd with combs and brushes, and several evilly sharp looking pairs of scissors.

The door opened and three well polished women came in. They were laughing and joking, and they saw the trio sitting there. They exchanged a look. With a chuckle, one stepped forward.

"Hi, I'm Helena, and I'll take you." She said this to Hermione.

"Hi, I'm Hermione," she said, nervously fingering her hair.

"Well, Hermione, that is quite some hair you have there." Hermione smoothed her hair down nervously.

"So," Helena continued, "I don't know about you, but I think we need to talk about it. I don't think having you hair in such a style will be conducive to any type of mission, and even pulled away from your face it draws attention, no?"

Hermione nodded, a little protective of her mane. Helena had a point.

"So we have to make decision: your hair cannot stay as unmanageable as it is. That would not be doing my job. So either we cut it very short." Hermione shook her head violently. She liked her hair. She looked to Harry and Ron. They were speaking with their stylists and Ron was even telling his how short he wanted his.

"I like my hair," Hermione said softly.

Helena chuckled. "The other choice is to do our best to make it manageable. This may take a while, and you'll have to trust me, but I think you will like this better.

"Ok," Hermione agreed, "do with my hair what you like with it."

So it began. Hermione closed her eyes. Helena started.

The process took over an hour. Harry and Ron left, hair shortened, and a perpetual charm placed.

Hermione began to get bored, and recited the twelve uses of dragon's blood and went over her basic curses she would need to know.

She really tried not to pay attention to what Helena was doing. She just moved obediently whenever asked.

Finally, Helena spoke.

"Look, Hermione. How is this?"

Hermione looked into the mirror, and she was shocked. Absolutely shocked beyond all measure.

Her hair was straight. Straight and… and... lovely.


End file.
